


...there it is

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Cocaine, Gen, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>basically i just wanted to write about someone doing coke, so i wrote about zayn doing coke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	...there it is

he doesn’t really know how it got to this point. all zayn knows is that the walls and floors of his apartment are coated in layers upon layers of spray paint and oil pastel, and that his vision is blurry enough that he can’t quite decipher what he created. he’s still shaking a little and his skin is stained with god knows what.

tour had come to a close the night before, and the afterparty was absolutely insane. it was held in a massive warehouse in a dingy and desolate corner of south london; there were bright lights flashing to make every movement look like a sequence of photos, thumping bass so deep your whole body vibrated with each beat, and loud strangers who claimed connections to their crew and brought party favors to make up for their lack of an invitation. 

one of the party guests, a person with a bottle-blonde buzzcut and lipstick the color of freshly spilled blood, approached zayn with an enviable amount of confidence. they swayed their way over and flopped a hand on his shoulder, “hey, you’re in the band, right?” 

they wore a long-sleeved, baggy, black mesh top that hung well past their knees, paired with a pair of black joggers and black doc martens. the person stared at him with bloodshot, mascara-coated eyes and a crooked smile, “if so, this is a gift of congratulations on behalf of your friends at the venue.” zayn figured then that they must work for this place, the creepiest building he’d ever been for a party, but at least the sound system was killer. they continued, “if not, i would like to offer libations to the most beautiful man i’ve ever seen.” they pulled out three small plastic bags, one filled with long blue pills, one with round white ones, and the other stuffed with soft white powder.

when you’re a member of one of the most closely-watched bands in the world, you can’t exactly openly accept the drug of the night from a stranger at a party in a building that looks like it was used as the set for that scene in reservoir dogs where the guy gets his ear cut off. but this person looks really friendly, and zayn’s security guards aren’t anywhere to be found, so he decided to take a chance. he took a quick glance around him, checking to see if there were any cameras or phones pointed in their direction. when all appeared to be clear, he turned his attention back to the person waggling plastic bags in his face.

“as long as you’re not trying to poison me,” zayn joked, the honey whiskey in his system reaching out and playfully snatching the bags out of their hand and examining them a bit closer while shielding himself from the center of the party to avoid wandering eyes. zayn looked up and smiled, stuffing the bags into his jeans pocket, “much appreciated.”

zayn saw them sniffle, and then their shoulders twitched forward in a stifled giggle. their hand reached out and affectionately pat zayn’s cheek three times, “have fun, kiddo. you deserve it.”

next thing he knew, zayn was in the dirtiest bathroom he’d ever seen. this building was just horrific, and why their crew decided to pick it for their tour’s afterparty is beyond him. at least the guests were generous. 

just as zayn moved to lock the door, it was being pushed open. harry stumbled through, cheeks flushed a light pink from the cocktails he’d been drinking for the last two hours, and hair curling gently over his shoulders. “oh, sorry mate. thought it was unoccupied.” 

harry clapped a hand over zayn’s shoulder and moved toward the urinals, but his glance moved down at the last moment and he saw what zayn had been trying to shove back into his pocket. “hold on a minute,” he drawled in that i’m-about-to-get-my-way voice he had perfected years ago, “why did you get party favors and i didn’t? that’s treason, i’m pretty sure.”

zayn rolled his eyes and laughed through his nose, harry’s just so harry sometimes it’s hard to bear. “just take a piss and you can share some okay?”

harry’s mouth gaped as he sauntered to the urinal and unzipped his trousers, “some? there’s no way you’re about to take down an 8-ball on your own. we’re going halfsies and that’s final.”

harry continued on, barely related words waterfalling from his mouth in one long slurred line. zayn had already blocked out harry’s nonsensical drunken babbling and had locked the door and taken out his american express card to set up two thick lines on the tin shelf that hanged below the mirror across from the sinks. zayn figured that one large bump would hold them both over for the next hour or so, then he could move on to whatever else was given to him by that very friendly stranger. they were pretty attractive, now that he thought about it. maybe after this line he’d go find them again.

zayn was awakened from his thoughts by the press of harry’s lips below his left ear. he wriggled away, giggling, and handed harry the one-er he’d rolled into a small tube. he could probably go find an actual straw at the bar just outside, but the aesthetic of snorting coke through a £100 note was too good to pass up. 

harry gave him a kiss on his cheekbone just below the corner of his eye and affectionately stroked hair on the back of his head, “my zaynie treats me so nicely.”

watching harry hold his index finger over his right nostril, place the note in his left, and gracefully inhale the line with a harsh sniff, zayn could already taste the bitterness that would soon adhere to the back of his throat and slowly drip down, cold and numbing. 

harry raised his head with his eyes closed and reached a hand up to brush his curls back, his face twitching. zayn gingerly took the £100 from between harry’s fingers and, holding one nostril closed, he sniffed quickly and easily across the line. he put the note down on the ledge and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the cool metal. his head was starting to spin already and his skin tingled with both a numbness and an oversensitivity that made his hair stand up. his head pounded and his nose burned and he felt amazing. harry had started to press kisses into zayn’s back through his shirt, mumbling little words of thanks into the fabric.

and there it was, the feeling zayn loved. it felt like a wave passing through each atom of his body, a wave of euphoria and happiness and energy and passion and love for everything he felt and everyone he knew. this was the thing zayn craved, and the thing harry loved to see zayn crave.

slowly, the boys both rose from their hunched position in front of the mirror and looked at themselves. their eyes were bloodshot and wide, pupils blown to hide most of the green in harry’s and the brown in zayn’s. a smile split across harry’s face, dimples coming to life, and his cheeks flushed. zayn turned to him, placed his hands on harry’s cheeks, and reached his thumbs up to brush over harry’s eyes and urge them to close. he slowly moved closer, closed his eyes, and placed his lips to harry’s rosy pink ones carefully. a gentle brush of skin on skin. it’d become a tradition for them to kiss like this, whenever they did coke together. 

zayn moved his lips against harry’s softly, feeling the wet of the inside of his mouth for a brief moment. opening his eyes, zayn pulled away and moved his hands from harry’s cheeks to his hips. he pat harry’s left side twice, “go find your boyfriend. he’s probably received his party favor by now.”

harry grinned, quickly grabbed zayn’s face, and placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. he unlocked the bathroom door and ran out. zayn could hear him shouting for louis as the door swung shut again.

it had been barely a minute and zayn decided he didn’t feel enough. the initial rush of a line is always nice, it makes him feel everything all at once and his body shivers and shakes and he can’t tell if he wants to paint or scream and cry but he wants to do something. he quickly tapped out another thick line onto the metal ledge and snorted, then unrolled the note and put it and his credit card back into his wallet. he looked up at himself in the mirror and saw his eyes widen. his heart was racing and his breath was coming in quick and shallow huffs, and he had so much energy with nowhere to put it.

zayn jumped up and down in place for a few seconds, shaking his head and feeling his hair graze over his face. he reached his hands up and slapped himself a few times and saw his cheeks redden in the mirror. he stopped jumping and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on finding something to do. he heard a particularly thick bassline coming through the walls and decided to go dance. 

half an hour and one more line later, zayn stopped by the bar. niall was sat with josh, laughing throatily over pints, and zayn held his hand over niall’s lower back as he leaned over the bar to order a shirley temple. niall squawked out a laugh, “the fuck kind of drink is that, z? we’re supposed to get wasted tonight!” he turned to look at him and a knowing smile spread across his face. niall tapped a hand on josh’s thigh and nodded toward zayn, who was distractedly staring across the crowd, looking for nothing in particular but seeming quite determined to find it. 

josh chuckled and raised his eyebrows suggestively, “if his eyes are anything to judge by, someone’s been wasted for quite a bit now.”

zayn’s head whipped toward the voice, “what? oh, yeah,” he giggled distractedly, “found some party favors.” niall’s eyebrows knit together in a silent laugh, but before he could respond zayn had run off to a table in the corner of the large room with his drink in hand. 

he sat by himself in the dark corner and dug in his pocket for the white pills. he determined from memory that the shape and color probably meant they were mdma, and decided that his judgement was very wise. zayn smiled to himself and wiggled in his chair in a small dance as he took out two pills, then swallowed them down with his cherry drink.

two hours passed and the party was dying down, but zayn was bouncing off the walls. harry had seen him as he and louis made the rounds to say goodbye for the evening, and told him that he’d asked zayn’s security guard to take him home. 

“why? there is much party to be had, haz.”

“you’ve had plenty of party, i think,” harry laughed, and zayn felt strong hands on his shoulders guiding him toward the exit. he smiled and decided not to fight it, so as to avoid ruining his high, and let himself be sat in the backseat of an escalade. 

the drive to his studio apartment took about twenty minutes, and zayn was going to burst from his skin. he decided that it was too quiet and asked his driver to turn on the radio. he chortled when a taylor swift song came on, and reached into his pocket for the white bag. quietly and carefully, he tapped a small amount onto the soft skin between his thumb and index finger. checking again to ensure that no one was looking, zayn leaned forward and sniffed softly. it wasn’t much, but it was enough to hold him over for the drive.

zayn arrived in his apartment and was more energized than he’d ever been in his life, and that includes the time he and harry did two lines each before a live interview. he walked to one of his easels and saw he’d set up a line on it before he left for tour. taking it as a sign from god, he quickly sniffed the line and jumped up and down for a little while. when he stopped jumping, he realized his whole body was hot. he was so hot. he started to strip his clothes and was standing in his briefs when he realized he was completely hard. this effect of coke is both fun and aggravating, especially when he just doesn’t feel like jerking off. there are times when zayn wishes he wasn’t asexual, and this is one of them. he doesn’t really wish that, but, like, it would be much easier to just call someone up for a quick shag than to jerk off for the next three hours.

but that’s what happened. zayn had passed out on the floor of his kitchen at some point, and woke up with dried come on his thighs and oil pastel drawings all over his previously white cabinets. his dick was red and sore, and his ass felt like he'd fucked it with a baseball bat. he rubbed his eyes with shaking hands and stood up gradually, still feeling residual dizziness from the line he did before he fell asleep.

the large windows in his studio showed him that it was morning, and zayn really couldn’t believe he’d stayed up all night wanking and drawing self portraits on his kitchen cabinets. as he walked through the rest of his studio, he saw that he’d spray painted quotes and ominous figures onto nearly every single wall. sayings from jean michel basquiat lined his ceilings and looming dark figures stretched across the walls.

zayn closed his eyes and decided he’d deal with that later, and made himself a cup of tea in a thermos. he pulled on some boots, joggers, and a hoodie and decided to go for a walk in the park to burn off the remaining buzz of his high. he still kind of wanted to go find harry and kiss him some more, but that thought should probably be saved for a time when he isn’t totally coked out and hungover. 

with slightly wobbling knees and a throbbing head, zayn stepped into the bright overcast of london.


End file.
